


claws

by irondevils



Series: you had me right under your skin (but i let you in) [1]
Category: Black Cat (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Explicit Language, Gen, Gun Violence, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, barely, barely again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:54:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27259762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irondevils/pseuds/irondevils
Summary: He was about to give in, to give up, when a strong hand latched onto his wrist. Peter’s eyes snapped open, expecting to see an officer ready to haul him off to the Raft. Instead, his eyes met a familiar masked face and platinum hair that glowed in the moonlight.
Relationships: Felicia Hardy & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark (mentioned)
Series: you had me right under your skin (but i let you in) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990426
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	claws

**Author's Note:**

> hey I actually wrote something again! Look at me go. 
> 
> Anyway, if I wrote Spidey 3, this is something I would have in there. If Felicia seems a little OOC here, it's because it's more of my version of her, her personality, and her relationship with Peter. Take it with a grain of salt. 
> 
> I didn't proofread this, so I apologize if there are a lot of grammar mistakes. This may be really bad. Or maybe it's not. I don't know. Enjoy!

Peter really thought today was going to be a great day.

Spoiler alert: he was wrong.

He had kicked Beck’s ass in Europe, gotten himself and his friends home safely, and was swinging around New York with MJ. Minus the lingering hole in his life that Tony had left, plus years of trauma from Spider-Man and The Blip (did he need therapy?) he couldn’t have been happier. Peter should’ve known that would only last for so long before everything went to shit.

_“Spider-Man’s name is Peter Parker!”_

He had no idea how long it had been since Beck clawed out of his grave and fucked Peter over one last time. As soon as his name was broadcasted all over the city, he scooped MJ up and swung away faster than he thought he had ever moved before. Peter deposited her on top of her apartment building, kissed her on the cheek, and swung away again, hearing the distant sounds of police sirens that had been following them since the broadcast. MJ called out after him, but Peter couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t let her get hurt because of him. Peter had called Happy, made him promise to keep May and his friends safe, and then promptly smashed his phone into the nearest wall and continued to swing away from the police.

It had to have been hours since then, the warm sun and hot trash smell of New York in the early afternoon long gone and the bright light of the skyscrapers around him lighting his path through the dark night. The dark was the only advantage he had. At top condition, Peter could’ve easily lost anyone following him. Now, though, Peter was slowing down. The police were still on his tail and he was quickly running out of options. Turn himself in? Keep swinging until he collapsed from exhaustion? Try to get in contact with one of his friends off the grid? _Well you smashed your phone genius_ , Peter thought. _They can’t help you if you can’t call them_.

His spidey sense had been going haywire since his identity was released, making it hard for Peter to focus, but the sudden scream of _DANGER_ from his senses had Peter turning his head over his shoulder, searching for a threat bigger than the one he was already dealing with. But it was too late. A shot rang out, followed by a sharp burst of pain in his calf.

Peter yelped, his grip on his web slipping in his moment of distraction. He tried shooting another web, but he was already falling, and, Peter noticed, he was out of web fluid. _Awesome._ He thought. _Could today get any worse?_

Shots continued to fire around him, Peter blindly twisting and turning to avoid the bullets as he fell. He hit the side of a building with a small grunt, his stickyness latching him onto the side by pure survival instinct. He didn’t have any time to catch his breath, though, because the moment his brain registered that he was no longer falling to his death, the pain in his leg set it. Peter didn’t even have to see it to know that the bullet was still in him, scraping against his bone and making a terrible noise that was driving Peter insane. He could feel the blood, way too much blood, oozing out of the gaping wound. Peter tried to move, to climb up onto the building and avoid the police officers and the New Yorkers screaming “MURDERER!” gathering below him, but gasped, pain shooting through his entire body at the slightest shift. Peter couldn’t move, and was completely and utterly screwed.

A few tears ran down his face, the reality of the shit show he had gotten himself into finally setting in. They were going to arrest him, maybe kill him, if the never ending rain of bullets was anything to go by. They would throw him in the Raft, hurt May and his friends and the worst part? Tony wasn’t here to help him.

Peter handled most situations on his own. He didn’t need Tony’s help. But this was the exact thing Tony had been taking measures to prevent. A lifetime ago, Tony had promised Peter that his name would never get out. That he would never have to worry about Secretary Ross or the Raft as long as Tony was around.

_“Seriously Pete, don’t worry about it. Ross isn’t getting his hands on you. Over my fucking dead body.”_

But now, Tony was gone. No one was keeping his information from getting to Ross, and it was all happening quite literally over Tony’s dead body.

Peter’s grip started to slip from the wall, his body growing weaker from the gushing wound in his leg and the panic settling in his chest. He closed his eyes, accepting the inevitable.

_I’m sorry May. I’m sorry Ned, MJ. I’m sorry Tony. I’m so sorry._

He was about to give in, to give up, when a strong hand latched onto his wrist. Peter’s eyes snapped open, expecting to see an officer ready to haul him off to the Raft. Instead, his eyes met a familiar masked face and platinum hair that glowed in the moonlight.

“Hey Spider,” Felicia said, giving him a smile that toed the line between a smirk and a grimace. “Long time no see.”

Peter sighed, relieved, and even in the absolute clusterfuck that was the night he was having, he smiled under his mask. He pushed up from the wall with his good leg, Felicia pulling his arms upward until he was leaning against her on the roof. Her hands on his shoulders were steadying, and oddly enough, comforting after the day he’d had. Peter tried to relax, tried to cherish a brief moment of peace and the absence of danger. But he couldn’t hold back the sob that escaped his throat.

“I didn’t do it,” Peter cried. He buried his face in Felicia’s neck, breathing in the smell of her perfume and a hint of gunpowder. “I didn’t kill him, I didn’t, I couldn’t, I _wouldn’t_ -.” His shoulders shook with the force of his cries.

“I know Peter,” Felicia whispered, her voice lacking her usual teasing and snark. She was stiff in their embrace, but her hands rubbed up and down his back in an attempt to comfort him. “I know you wouldn’t.”

He didn’t know how long they had been standing there, it couldn’t have been long, when he finally came back to himself enough to be embarrassed. He let out a deep breath, backed away, and lifted his head to meet Felicia’s eyes. She gave him a sad smile.

“Alright Pete,” Felicia said, softer than Peter could ever remember her sounding. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

Peter nodded, wordlessly handing one of his webshooters over to her. He was in no condition to swing them both like he usually would. She slipped it onto her wrist, tightened her grip on Peter’s back, and shot a web onto the next building over. People were shouting below them, profanities and insults leaving their lips like scripture. Felicia yelled them right back, kicking a police officer off a balcony as they passed it. Peter couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of his throat.

“There he is,” she murmured, and Peter could hear the smile in her voice. He must’ve blacked out after that, from the pain or the panic, Peter didn’t know. Probably both. He came back to awareness when they touched down on a solid surface, a small glance at his surroundings showing a familiar fire escape.

“Can you stand?” Felicia asked, looking him over with as much concern as he could see in the dark.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” Peter answered quickly. Felicia laughed, moving forward to open her window and reaching a hand out toward him.

“You don’t look it Spider. I thought we were past lying about shit like this.”

They stumbled through her window, Felicia supporting most of his weight, and Peter promptly collapsed on her bedroom floor.

“That’s rich coming from you, Cat.” Felicia didn’t bother to respond, leaving the room in a hurry. Peter could hear the sound of doors and windows locking and Felicia rifling through cabinets in her bathroom. By the time she returned, Peter had sat up, leaning back against the wall next to the window. She had changed out of her Black Cat attire, dressed in a dark green tank top and black jogger sweatpants. Her hair was no longer a platinum blonde-gray, but a warm dirty blonde.

Felicia sat down in front of him, gently tugging his mask off his face. He knew he didn't look good, but he guessed it was worse than he thought, if the look on Felicia’s face was anything to go by. Her thumbs wiped the tears from his cheeks, and she gave him a small smile, gently patting his knee and moving down to poke at his bullet wound.

“You don’t have to do that,” He said quietly. “I can take care of it myself.” Felicia rolled her eyes, picking up the tweezers out of the kit and wiping them off with a disinfectant wipe.

“Yeah no,” She said, deadpan. “Tony Stark would kick my ass from the grave if I let you stitch yourself up _again_.”

Peter winced, a combination of the sting of a literal bullet being pulled out of his leg and the pang of grief in his chest at the mention of Tony.

“Too soon?”

Peter shrugged.

“Talkative today are we? Not like you at all,” Felicia noticed. “I know it’s been hot minute since we’ve seen each other, but you still haven’t told me about Europe. Considering where we are right now, I can’t imagine it went very well.”

Peter laughed at that. Felicia smiled at him. It was almost enough to distract him from the searing pain of being stitched up without pain meds. Almost.

“Last one,” Felicia said quietly. Peter hissed. This never got easier. At least Felicia’s stitching was better than Happy’s. After the last stitch, Felicia zipped up the kit and stood.

“Are you hungry?” She asked, then immediately backtracked “Nevermind that’s a stupid question. You’re always hungry. I’ll be right back.”

Peter watched her leave, and, for the first time since he had not so gracefully stumbled into the room, took in his surroundings. Felicia’s room looked the same as the last time he was here, which, granted, was only a few weeks prior. Peter had gotten stabbed trying to stop someone from vandalizing an Iron Man mural. Felicia had stitched him up and he cried on her shoulder about Tony for two straight hours.

Yeah. Not his finest moment.

After he had finally pulled his shit together, Peter told her about his Europe trip, about his plan to ask MJ out, all of it. He still couldn’t believe how much shit had happened in between then and now. God. What the fuck was he going to do?

Felicia walked back into the room, two plates in hand. She sat back down and handed one to him, along with a blanket and a bottle of water. He thanked her quietly, his stomach rumbling at the mere sight of food. They sat in silence, picking at their sandwiches and staring at the floor.

“What the fuck happened Peter?” Felicia asked, her tone lacking the venom the words implied, and breaking through the tension.

Peter sighed, and started from the beginning.

Felicia nodded along with his story, listening intently and grinning when he told her about his kiss with MJ.

“I told you she likes you.” She added smugly.

“Leesh you don’t even know her.” Felicia shrugged and gestured for him to continue.

When he finished, she said: “Well that’s quite a fucking disaster Parker.”

“Yeah I know,” Peter replied sharply, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck. This was much worse than he ever could've imagined.

“Well lucky for you, I can help.” Peter stared at her.

“I mean, really it sounds like Secretary Ross is your biggest problem here,” She said. “I could always just kill him for you.”

Peter choked on his sandwich. “No!”

“Okay whatever,” Felicia conceded. “I’m just saying I could if you needed me to.”

Peter looked up at her, pouring as much sincerity into his words as he could manage. “Cat, as much as I appreciate it, you’ve done enough. You saved my ass out there,” Peter admitted. “I don’t even know what I’m gonna do yet. I don’t want to fight my way out of this. I need to find a way to do this the right way.”

Felicia snorted. “No fucking way I’m letting you do this on your own Spider. Running from the law? Getting out of trouble? That’s my territory.”

Peter started to protest, but she cut him off.

“Peter, you’re sixteen years old. I know you’re capable and all that bullshit you tell everyone when they try to help you. But you can’t do this one by yourself,” Felicia said. “I took care of this city when you were a pile of dust, and as much as I would like to mind my own damn business, you need my help.”

Peter sighed, rubbing his temples in a nervous tic he’d picked up from Tony. He knew she was right. He had no idea how he would navigate this on his own. His friends and family were already in danger because of him, there was no way he could let Felicia get mixed up in that too. Not that he would ever tell her that. Peter knew all too well what happened when he let someone get too close.

“Fine,” Peter agreed, ignoring the grin that spread across Felicia’s face. “But please let me do this my way. No killing people. Jesus, you and Wade are exhausting.”

Felicia laughed, and Peter smiled at her. They stared at each other for a moment, thinking, before she cleared her throat.

“You want to do this the right way? Comply with the law and all that shit?”

Peter nodded. Felicia thought for a second.

“I may know someone who can help.” Peter raised his eyebrow.

Felicia smirked. “Spider, I think it’s time you meet Matt Murdock.”

**Author's Note:**

> So there was that! I have more PeterFelicia fics planned that take place both before and after this, to give more context on their friendship, but it's a matter of if I actually write them. Hopefully. But you all know how I am. 
> 
> hang out with me on twitter and tumblr!
> 
> @starkandmurdock on twitter
> 
> tastelessirondad on tumblr


End file.
